Ah! many springs have come and gone,
And called me forth in vain;
Now winter folds the winding-sheet
Round nature's breast again.

Young hands have gathered bright, wild flowers,
Young feet have trod the grass,
But I have watched in solitude
The mournful shadows pass.

Young hands have gathered brighter flowers
From wisdom's pleasant tree—
But darker still the shadows fall,
There are no flowers for me!

No flowers! where shadows deepest lie
Amid the wint'ry gloom,
Thank God, I see with kindling eye
The Rose of Sharon bloom!

It is enough—my earthly hopes
Are fading one by one;
My God and my Redeemer lives,
And may his will be done.

I know that in a better world
I shall look back and say
I never could have reached my home
By any other way.

And such a home! no frightful dreams,
No wakings to despair—
No cries of—God remove the cup,
Or give me strength to bear!

No pillows wet with burning tears,—
No longings wild and vain
To wander in the pleasant fields,
Or dear old woods again!

But love and peace, and endless joy,
And rest to me how strange!
Lord give me patience to await
The happy, happy change!